Yesterday, I kept thinking about tweeting, “this is the first time in years that I’m excited about my upcoming birthday and not wallowing in misery like in the past.” It kept popping up in my head all throughout the day but I never really got the chance to post anything. It was also partly because I didn’t want to be happy and joyful while people on the internet are all sad about the chaotic issues that have been happening.
Just now, I was reading Richel’s Rambles About a TV Series: Thirteen Reasons Why and I suddenly got sad. It is the same sadness I felt when I was watching the Netflix adaptation of Jay Asher’s book. I think I was triggered because most of what she said is the exact same way I feel towards the show.
I scrolled down and saw Bae’s comment about Alex fixing his stuff, just like what Hannah did, before he supposedly committed suicide. People are pointing out that Alex indeed tried ending his life because that act was a sign. (We’ll have to wait for season two to find out.) If you watched the documentary 13 Reasons Why: Beyond the Reasons, there was one instance where they explained that it is a manifestation of suicidal thoughts, that people who commit suicide often clean up their things, arrange what needs to be arranged, before their self destruction.
I never recalled experiencing this while watching but it hit me while going through the comments. It flashed back just like in movies.
I almost committed suicide.
There was this one time when Mama and I had our “usual” big fight and I ended up locking my door so I can “mute” what she was saying. I always had fights with my parents, especially Mama, because of my depression. That’s for another blog post.
Anyway, a few minutes after she stopped talking, I cleaned my room and tidied up my things. I even organized my closet and my niece’s. And then I laid on the floor so that I wouldn’t disturb the newly changed purple duvet. I was thinking of ways to end my life while at it. I was going to cut my wrist with the glass of my high school graduation photo frame, I thought. I even had the idea to break it while it was wrapped in a cloth so that people outside won’t hear anything. If they do, they’d be able to stop me.
I was on the floor, crying my eyes out, thinking that nothing was going right. My head was being filled with all the mistakes I’ve done. I was useless. I wasn’t graduating on time. I was failing my subjects. I didn’t have the motivation to even finish college. All my friends were going through such good things in life and I was stuck. I always felt stuck. My parents hated me. My productivity was as zero as my self-esteem. I was nothing. If I was going to die, nobody would notice.
But I knew deep in my heart that wasn’t true.
I thought about how my niece might react when she finds out; how she might be miserable when she enters the room and sees me lying there with blood coming out of my wrist; how that sight might be traumatizing for a child like her. I wished she wouldn’t blame herself that I left. I thought about those times when I kidded around her. I’d act dead and she would always take it seriously and cry sad, sad tears. It always made me tear up too and end up regretting the joke. I, indeed, knew better.
She was that stop sign. She was always the last bit of hope I had.
I continued lying on that floor, cried some more, and fell into a deep slumber. I woke up to my mother’s nudging that I get up and sleep in my bed. She got to unlock the door with a spare key. How sad to live in a house not yours but your parents’, I said to myself. I stayed on the floor.
I eventually got up though, just like what I did with my life.
You see, when I say I have so much love for that kid, I wasn’t telling you just because. She came into our lives unexpectedly. Believe me when I say that I never imagined being a tita at 12 years old; or helping take care of somebody so fragile; or having someone so innocent depend on you; or loving somebody new as whole and as warm as I do. I never imagined wanting a good life for a child, someone who isn’t me, in this cruel world.
I always ask my Mama how life would’ve been if my niece was not born. “The house would’ve been not as loud,” mama would answer. But I have a feeling that I wouldn’t be typing this now if not for her. I don’t think I’d still be alive if not for her.
(Naiiyak na ako habang humihilik siya sa tabi ko.)
This is a blog post, a year after I graduated from college, reminding myself that I’ve gone through so much in life to quit; that if I look back, I am so far from the person I used to be. That there are so many things to be grateful for, so many persons to love back more.
Maybe this is the birthday blues kicking.
Photo from Unsplash.com